Chapter 7

Hank drove us into the nearest town to check on the arrival of money for our new car. We went to the bank that I had told Scott about, but they had not received any money transfers for us. This was very disturbing to me, and made me more than a little upset. Using the bank's telephone, I called Scott in Arizona but he was in a meeting and could not be disturbed. The woman that answered my call adamantly refused to notify him that I was calling. I was furious. I thanked the bank for allowing me the use of the phone and then rounded up the children and left. Once outside, I just wanted to scream, I was so angry. Hank quickly came up with an alternate plan for the afternoon. He drove to the local shopping district (it's not fair to call it a mall) and suggested that we buy some new clothing. He took Travis with him to a men's store while Sarah and I went immediately to the first women's clothing shop we saw. Three hours and several hundred dollars later, we each had at least three new outfits plus accessories. Travis was content with new blue jeans and knit shirts, and a pair of boots more suitable for walking and hiking in the woods.

We returned to Hank's house in time for dinner which ended up being three frozen pizzas that Hank had purchased while waiting for us to finish shopping. I wanted to be back in case Scott called, but the phone never rang. With nothing else to do, and no where to go, we spent the rest of the evening in the den talking about a myriad of subjects. By far, the one topic that garnered the most conversation was travel. Hank wanted to know how much traveling we had done as a family and if the children had been able to see Europe or Asia yet.

Without thinking about it much, I immediately said, "The only traveling that we have done was when Scott and I went to the French Riviera on our honeymoon. No, the children have never gone anywhere. As a matter of fact, no one has gone anywhere, because we have not had a vacation since then."

And then I thought about all that I had said and wondered why it had been that way. This was just about the same time that Sarah asked why we had never gone on vacations like other people had.

"Because your father has always said that he could not afford to take the time off of work." I could see that this discussion was going downhill in a hurry and looked at Hank to do or say something that would move the topic away from Scott's failings as a father. Hank, bless his heart, suggested a game of pool.

"Pool?" Travis asked? "Where do you have a pool table?"

"In the other building, with all the other entertainment stuff. Follow me, please. You don't think that just because I live out here by myself that I sit by the fire every night and read by candlelight, do you?" We followed him out and across the yard. He opened the door to the "other building" as he called it.

I thought it was a barn. It looked like a barn from the outside, but that was as far as that image lasted. Inside, in one area were a full size pool table and a nine position card table (for poker, I think). There was a weight and work out room visible from where I stood, and then he took us through the next doors to expose an indoor swimming pool and spa. Behind that was a ten person theater complete with seats and some sort of projection system to show movies. Hank told us that he subscribed to a service that sent him first run movies each month capable of being shown in his mini theater.

No one said a word. Nothing! We just stood in awe, looking at this magnificent entertainment complex. I have no idea what was running through the kids' minds at that moment, but all I could think about was my astonishment that this level of luxury was hidden away here in the woods of Missouri. I thought about how we had just left a very wealthy suburb of Cleveland, Ohio where many people lived in homes costing millions of dollars. While I knew a few people that had a pool, and a few that had an entertainment center, not only did I not know, but I had never even heard of anyone having this combination of entertainment in their homes. I don't really think I was jealous or envious, more likely just surprised. My uncle, the richest man that I knew personally, did not have anything like this, and he has a fabulous home.

Sarah, so old and wise and yet so young and innocent asked the question that floored everyone. "Why do you live out here by yourself? Why haven't you ever married and had a family?"

I started to chastise her lack of discretion when Hank responded. "Until I met your mother, I had never met anyone that I wanted to spend much time with, much less marry. That's why I have never built a new house. For me, that one is just fine. I don't spend much time there anyway, only in the winter when the sap runs, and the other odd times when I am not off traveling somewhere. But I always told myself that if I ever found a woman to marry, I would build her the house of her dreams."

"Until you met Mom? Mom is married!"

"That doesn't mean that I wouldn't like to spend the rest of my life with her."

"Are you crazy? What about Dad?"

"Sarah, this is not a discussion to have with you, here now. I invited you all to see this and to play some pool tonight, and I think that is what we should do."

We played pool for several hours, and there was no further discussion about Hank's comments. Sarah, appropriately but gently quieted, spent most of the evening thinking about what she had just heard. Whenever her turn came up, one of us had to wake her from whatever trance like thoughts she was having. As ten o'clock rolled around, the games came to an end and we wandered back to the house. I could tell that Sarah was anxious to get to a room and talk privately with her brother. I was okay with that; she obviously was troubled and needed someone to vent to.

"Julie," Hank began, but I interrupted him.

"Hank, I hardly know anything about you. We have only been together for a few days. This is all much too much, much too fast. I am a married woman with a husband and two children. I have spent three days of my life, admittedly, three of the best days of my life, with a wonderful stranger in the middle of a forest in a strange place where I know no other person. Life can not be more unusual than that, can it?"

"Julie, you have seen my home, I have told you of my life, how I came to be here, how I came to own this property. I have told you something of my business, the 'What do I do for work?' that your children asked me, and you have seen what it is and how it works. You know that it is legitimate, that it is nothing criminal, and you know, or at least can surmise, that I am a wealthy man. Those are all things that you know or accept as factual, without having to draw your own conclusions or do any analysis. But, think, for a minute, about what else you can conclude. A person can not build an entertainment complex like the one out back without spending a fair amount of money. When we went into the bank today, people were happy to see me and the banker came out of his office to shake my hand. He wouldn't do that if I was up to my ears in debt, would he? And yesterday, when we saw the sheriff and the state patrol officer, they both said hello to me, by name, and neither reached for his gun, so I think it's pretty safe to assume that they weren't looking to arrest me for anything. You can look around my house, as old as it is, and see that there is nothing new in it, and that is precisely the point. Everything is old, yet it still works, is not all dinged up or broken, so I probably take pretty good care of things."

I nodded in agreement, but didn't quite know how to respond.

Hank continued," Finally there is the sex. I have had sex with a number of women, I don't know how many, just many, in all different places, resorts, cruise ships, fancy hotels and total dives. Younger, older, every color imaginable; but never, (and he raised his voice a little) NEVER has it ever felt like is does when we have sex. Never, ever, did I want to wrap my arms around a woman and hold her tightly for the rest of the night. Never, ever did my body react as it does when I cum inside you. NEVER! Why is that? Why do I feel so much differently with you than with any other woman? And why do I become more emotional each time we do it, to the extent that I just want to hold you with me forever? I told you that very first night that we weren't making love, that we were only fucking. But I think in the last two days, for me at least, that may have changed. Now I just want to hold you and caress you and make sure that you are happy forever. So I think that I may be just a little more than a "stranger" to you."

"But I am a married woman, Hank. I have a husband who I vowed to be with. I have two children by that man."

"And will you not admit to me now that you have never, not once in your life, ever had sex with your husband that has come even remotely close to the level of satisfaction you have experienced in the last three days. And I'm not talking about how intense is your orgasm. I am talking about how you feel an hour later, or two, or four, or two days. I'm talking about a woman whose emotions and passions have been pent up and bound for years and who has been finally freed from her chains. I'm talking about a woman who is experiencing mutual compassion, mutual satisfaction, mutual everything when we have sex. Do you ever, have you ever, felt that with your husband? Have you ever felt his love for you, or has it always been a one way street?"

We were in bed as we talked and I finally said, "Oh Hank, I am very confused. Can we not do anything tonight, please? I need to think this out clearly." He honored my wish and turned out the lamp. I lay on my back thinking about what he had just said, and how it was all so true. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but he was correct. I had never felt Scott's love; I had always just given mine. But I was too sleepy to really think clearly, and within minutes, I was fast asleep. My exhaustion demanded a solid night's sleep and I did not wake until daybreak.